


Can I Listen?

by yamayamawrites



Series: Yama Writes Kinktober 2020 [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Friends With Benefits, Kinktober 2020, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Phone Sex, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:00:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26863300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yamayamawrites/pseuds/yamayamawrites
Summary: “Tobio,” Shouyo says on the other line, and Tobio can practically hear the sneer in his voice, like a lightbulb has just erupted in that pea brain of his, “are you going to jack off?”“Fuck off!” Tobio spits, his face brightening into a color that unfortunately resembles a strawberry. And Shouyo laughs like the little bastard he is, the little, sexy bastard.“Oh please, it’s not like everyone doesn’t do it!” Shouyo giggles. He’s still recovering from his outburst. Tobio wishes more than anything that he could reach through the damn phone and punch him.“Shut up,” Tobio grunts. “I’m hanging up. Good night, Sh—”“Can I listen?”
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio
Series: Yama Writes Kinktober 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1992220
Comments: 10
Kudos: 299





	Can I Listen?

**Author's Note:**

> Hey hey hey! Thanks for reading my work, as always! I decided this year I'd do my very best to contribute to Kinktober (on my own terms, so they probably won't all come out this month...or this year). I've mentioned on a few other recently posted works that I have a big WIP going on right now, so updates have been pretty sporadic on my end. Plus, I'm trying to finish up my bachelor's degree by next summer, so...lots going on right now in my life!
> 
> Anyways, as always, I do hope you enjoy, and if you don't please don't hesitate to tell me why! I appreciate every single comment and kudos!

Phone calls aren’t atypical from Shouyo, but they _do_ always seem to come at the wrong time.

It’s nearing midnight, and Tobio’s finally showered and eaten dinner after a late-night practice. Shouyo’s out of town, attending some sort of training camp, but Tobio doubts that Shouyo wouldn’t have called even if he was in town. On nights he can’t come over, he always, _always_ calls.

Normally it isn’t a problem when he calls this late, but well, after such a high-strung practice Tobio was really hoping to just…unwind. Just a little. (Which, of course, is Tobio code for jerk off.) And he supposes part of this is on him for not considering that Shouyo would definitely, certainly, without a doubt call. He cringes hearing his phone going off, and regrets not jerking off in the shower.

His voice is gruff when he answers the phone. “Kageyama,” he grumbles, though he knows who it is – Shouyo snagged his phone back in the first few weeks of practice and changed his ringtone to something different from everyone else’s. And also entered his contact information into the phone, putting a heart-eyes emoji next to it as a second thought. He still sometimes teases Tobio for not changing it.

 _“Tobio!”_ Shouyo sings on the other end of the line. _“You sound grumpy. Did I wake you?”_

“No,” Tobio exhales, relaxes back on his bed. He’s put on a pair of joggers – forgoing boxers underneath altogether – and his towel from the shower drapes across his bare shoulders. He slouches against the headboard, can see his half-hard erection quite clearly with the lack of another layer between his skin and his pants. He tries to will it away.

 _“Everything okay?”_ Shouyo presses, and Tobio sighs again, balling his empty hand lazily in his joggers. Shouyo’s been amazing at gauging his emotions practically since they met back the previous year at the start of university. Before it only applied on the court; now, though, Tobio wonders if Shouyo can read his mind sometimes.

“I don’t want to get into it, Shou,” Tobio replies, because he knows if he _does_ get into it, he’s not going to stop ‘getting into it’ until he’s coming undone in his hand, and he doesn’t particularly want to do that with Shouyo’s voice in his ear. (His downstairs, however, seems to _very much_ want to do that with Shouyo’s voice in his ear.)

His and Shouyo’s relationship is complicated, to say the least. They’ve made out a few times, drunk at parties after big victories for the university. And Tobio’s pretty sure at least once he’s also drunkenly confessed to being in love with Shouyo – but his memory of that entire night is pretty much shot and he’s just going off of what Yuu has relayed to him about the events (which isn’t very helpful, because Yuu was also plastered at the time). Still, Tobio isn’t quite to the level of comfort it takes to jerk off with Shouyo on the other end of the phone.

 _“But you sound stressed!”_ Shouyo whines. _“Tobi, tell me! Did Daichi-san scold you again?”_

“Dumbass,” Tobio replies, but it doesn’t carry the same bark as usual. He simply sounds exhausted. “No, jeez. One of the damn first-years asked me to practice extra with them and I’m exhausted.”

He hears Shouyo shuffle a bit on the other end, wishes his brain didn’t stick to that detail. He wonders if Shouyo’s rolling onto his stomach, or maybe he’s on his back, or maybe propped up that way he sometimes does on the edge of the couch when he’s trying to keep up a conversation with Tobio while he wanders his kitchen. _“Oh,”_ Shouyo responds, a bit blatant, and maybe a little…is that _bitterness_? Tobio shakes away the thought; it can’t be.

Actually, it can be, because before Tobio can respond, Shouyo speaks again. _“I thought you saved late-night practices for me.”_

Tobio’s breath hitches, just delicately enough that he hopes it doesn’t carry through the phone. “He asked, Shou, what do you expect me to say? ‘No, sorry, I only do extra practice with Shouyo but since he’s out for the week I’m going to say no to you anyways in case he gets jealous’. Dumbass—”

 _“I’m not jealous!”_ Shouyo replies, his voice a little more shrill. Tobio thinks maybe he’s struck a nerve. Whatever; the dumbass deserves it.

“Sure sounds like you are,” Tobio stabs the verbal knife into the wound further.

 _“Idiot,”_ Shouyo whines, and Tobio hears more damn shuffling. _“I just—I just thought that_ I _was your partner.”_

Tobio blinks. “He asked for help with his sets,” he says, soft, pensive. Totally unlike how he normally sounds with everyone else, but his typical tone on these stupid late-night calls. When Shouyo strikes a nerve of his own and Tobio suddenly feels vulnerable, like if he says something wrong Shouyo will give up on him altogether and find a new setter to make out with on occasion.

 _“Well!”_ Shouyo says, exasperated, as if he has a point. Tobio doesn’t quite think he does.

“Look, Shou, thanks for calling, but I really just need to unwind and get some rest,” Tobio attempts to put an end to the conversation here. He knows, unfortunately, that Shouyo’s typically the one to end their calls, that this is just a suggestion and Shouyo can take it how he will.

 _“Unwind?”_ Shouyo repeats. _“Like, what? You gonna watch a TV show? What show? I’ve been watching this one about—”_

“Shouyo,” Tobio interrupts. “No. I’m going to bed.” He really, _really_ regrets using the term ‘unwind’. He knows from personal experience that Shouyo likes to fixate on the strangest things, and of course, of course he’d fixate on this tonight. Right when he doesn’t want to be having this conversation.

 _“Tobio,”_ Shouyo says on the other line, and Tobio can practically hear the sneer in his voice, like a lightbulb has just erupted in that pea brain of his, _“are you going to jack off?”_

“Fuck off!” Tobio spits, his face brightening into a color that unfortunately resembles a strawberry. And Shouyo laughs like the little bastard he is, the little, sexy bastard.

 _“Oh please, it’s not like everyone doesn’t do it!”_ Shouyo giggles. He’s still recovering from his outburst. Tobio wishes more than anything that he could reach through the damn phone and punch him.

“Shut up,” Tobio grunts. “I’m hanging up. Good night, Sh—”

_“Can I listen?”_

Everything stops for a second, and all Tobio can hear is the faint crackle of static between the phone lines, the sound of his annoying ass alarm clock ticking on his bedside table. It seems like that one second lasts an eternity, but it ends abrupt, with Shouyo scrambling for an explanation on the other line. _“S-sorry, I wasn’t r-really thinking!”_

“Do you want to?” Tobio replies dumbly, because his half-mast mess of an erection has only grown at the thought, and there comes a point where too much blood is in Tobio’s dick that his brain stops functioning properly altogether.

 _“Yeah,”_ Shouyo breathes out a few moments later. A stubborn admission. And Tobio wasn’t aware he was waiting for permission, but as soon as it’s given he’s haphazardly wiggling his hips on his bed to bring his joggers down to his mid-thighs.

“Fuck,” he mutters, trying to adjust his phone to press between his shoulder and his ear so he can just pull the damn things down.

It’s cool in the apartment, but Tobio’s skin still feels sticky from the warmth of the shower, a little bit from sweat. He can’t believe he’s doing this. _He can’t believe he’s actually doing this._ His hand moves, hesitantly, to thumb over the head of his cock, and he makes a noise muffled by how hard he’s biting his lip. He can hear Shouyo stir on the other end.

This is crossing a line, Tobio thinks vaguely. This is creeping further from ‘friends with innocent benefits’ to ‘friends with _those kinds_ of benefits’. He rolls his thumb over the tip again and doesn’t muffle the noise, this time; he hums low, raspy. He’s been waiting for this all day, and it shows in how at attention his cock stands from just this.

 _“Tobio?”_ Shouyo whispers, breathy, on the other end of the line. He’s shifting, too, and Tobio almost wonders what Shouyo’s plan is – _is he going to jerk off on the other end?_

“Hm?” Tobio hums lazily, stroking himself once, slow.

 _“Tell me what you’re doing?”_ It’s phrased like a request, but Tobio hears it as a demand. Even so, he wouldn’t have denied Shouyo an answer anyways; his cognition is centered around his own personal pleasure at the moment, and anything else he’ll spare as little thought to as physically possible.

“Fuck, Shou, I’m jerking off,” he grunts, annoyed. “You told me to.” _Ah, yes. Let’s pin the blame on Shouyo. That’s fucking hot._

Tobio fumbles for his bedside table, reaches for the lube he has in case he ever manages to get lucky. So far, this is as lucky as he’s gotten. He uncaps the bottle and is generous, smearing the lube across the tip and down the shaft. A low moan erupts from him, and fuck, he’s never been quiet on his own, so why should he be quiet now?

 _“Fucking hell,”_ Shouyo whines on the other end, and Tobio remembers why he should be quiet now.

He listens closer to what’s happening on the other end of the phone while he lazily strokes himself. A low hum threatens to pass by his lips, but he keeps them clamped shut, tries his damnedest to just listen to Shouyo. And he catches it, sitting perfectly still like this – he catches the short gasp, the tiny mewl that’s _just_ loud enough to make it through the phone. And his hand speeds up of its own accord, his breathing shallowing.

“Sh-Shou,” Tobio gasps out, cuts himself off with a short sigh, “what are—are you, um…”

 _“Shut up,”_ Shouyo hisses back, and Tobio smirks.

“Are you thinking about me?” he sneers teasingly, and he’s utterly surprised that the response he gets is a full-on _moan_ , loud and absolutely, one hundred percent, unmistakable.

 _“Shut_ up _,”_ Shouyo pleads, his voice a whine. That same whine that asks Tobio for tosses and whines when Tobio wins the races to the gymnasium. That same whine that Tobio will never, _ever_ hear differently than in this moment ever again.

He strokes himself faster, whimpering. “Are you?” he presses, his voice strained as he tries to keep it from shaking. He normally just gets off to get off, to tire himself out, but this feels so incredibly good right now and he’s lowkey pissed about it.

 _“You and your stupid fucking sh—_ shit _—shoulders,”_ Shouyo whimpers, and Tobio’s not sure he’s ever heard Shouyo swear this much. It’s incredibly, painfully, wonderfully sexy. His hand moves faster, he’s certain the sound of his skin slapping skin is audible through the phone, and his low moans and groans are no longer being buried in his throat. His head is tipped back, his eyes are shut, and the phone slips away from his ear, so he decides to set it aside and put it on speaker.

“My sh-shoulders?” Tobio replies, remembers belatedly that they’re on the phone to first and foremost have a _conversation_ , which doesn’t seem like the highest priority right now, admittedly, but they can pretend.

 _“Like you could pick me up and throw me,”_ Shouyo muses. He punctuates his statement with a short gasp.

“Why—the fuck—would I throw you?” Tobio strains out, his movements growing faster and more erratic as he can dedicate ninety-five percent of his attention to jerking off, the other five percent to maybe responding to Shouyo.

 _“Because it’s hot, Tobio,”_ Shouyo gasps out. Tobio regrets not being able to hear Shouyo’s voice, his little gasps and moans directly in his ear, but this way he can reach down and cup his balls with his free hand. The gesture itself has him pressing his face hard into the side of his pillow.

“You’re hot,” Tobio shoots back, like it’s some sort of insult but it’s quite exactly the opposite. Shouyo voices his opinion on such matter with a moan, loud and breathy and _needy,_ and Tobio tips over the edge unceremoniously, choking on a few stuttered breaths and small whimpers. His breath comes ragged as he spills over, wrings himself dry listening to Shouyo’s own breathing speed up.

And then there’s a loud, high-pitched whine on the other end of the phone, and Tobio’s glad he’s yet to pick up his phone (too busy wiping his hand on his now-soiled tee shirt) because he’s certain he’d have split an eardrum listening to that up close. But oh, god, is it _hot_ , listening to Shouyo whimper Tobio’s name, his breathing just as ragged as Tobio’s had been mere moments ago. Now Tobio’s breath stops, catches in his throat.

They hang up quickly after that, embarrassingly so; Tobio’s about to yelp out a strangled “goodnight” when Shouyo beats him to the punch, not even waiting for a response before the phone line goes dead. And Tobio throws his head back into his pillows, lazily tugs his joggers up with one hand while he stares at the ceiling.

He doesn’t sleep that night.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading my first piece for Kinktober 2020! Like I mentioned above, I'm a bit of a busy bee at the moment, so I'll try my very very best to make my updates as not-sporadic as possible. But, well, I'm a mess so...trying my best probably won't be good enough, but I hope you'll forgive me!
> 
> Thank you all for your support of my work! Feel free to follow me on Tumblr for more content (same username - yamayamawrites) or follow my Twitter, where I post absolutely nothing (@kindofoptobio)!


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